


A Meeting Of The Minds

by Sugah_Cookeh



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: ...I'm a masochist, AU, Action, Alternate Universe, Don't expect in depth scientific theory, Drama, Eventual Romance, F/F, F/M, I've discovered Rich Text, M/M, Magic vs Science, Making up a lot of things, Meaning he won't destroy the world, Modern Setting, Not giving up on this story, Omg formatting HTML is a NIGHTMARE, Romance, Solas is woke, TFW you try to edit on your cell phone and it refreshes on you thrice, Tags Subject to Change, War, Why would anyone do this?, grumpy elves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-29
Updated: 2018-01-29
Packaged: 2019-03-10 20:29:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13509213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sugah_Cookeh/pseuds/Sugah_Cookeh
Summary: Noelle Trevelyan just wanted to get some extra credit for Professor Solas' classes. Not deal with whatever this was. "This" being voices in her head that weren't there before and becoming a babysitter for a grumpy elf. She better be getting extra credit for this.





	A Meeting Of The Minds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Have you met your lord and savior Fen'Harel yet? Sera and Cole are not his disciples.
> 
>  
> 
> Hopefully this is the last time I edit this chapter. It took forever.  
> Edit: Not the last time. Took some stuff out and added others in.

When Noelle Trevelyan was asked if she wanted to intern for the summer, she thought she’d be in an air-conditioned building, running errands for a disorganized professor. Instead, she found herself in the Maker forsaken Arbor Wilds assisting in the excavation of an ancient Elvhenan temple. This was an opportunity of a lifetime for anyone trying to earn a degree in Archaeology. Which she was not. In hindsight, Noelle should’ve expected this from Professor Solas. He was a brilliant, if eccentric, old elf. Emphasis on old... and infamous. The students at Ameridan University never dared to call him what the rest of the world did, at least not to his face.

Depending on who you asked, he was Fen’Harel, the ancient Elvhen god of rebellion or betrayal. When returning to the modern world, one of the first things he did was denounce his so-called divinity. The Elvhen pantheon were just a group of extremely powerful mages, called the Evanuris.

“Not gods,” he insisted.

This ancient faction just so happened to include him once upon a time. Others, like the various Dalish clans of southern Thedas disagreed. Many of them were varied in opinion, but all agreed on one truth. Fen’Harel is immortal.

Around 76 years ago, he was found in ruins predating the Tevinter Imperium. Archaeologists had somehow woken him from a semi-permanent magical compulsion called Uthenera. His discovery rocked the religious, scientific, political, historic, and academic communities all across Thedas. Longevity was proven possible by the existence of an unusually, well preserved elf. Some were skeptical of the truth but others were inspired. Several sought the answer to his “condition,” by attempting to replicate the method of Uthenera.

Wonder turned to curiosity and eventually became an unhealthy desperation with every failure. When it was clear that their understanding of immortality and its intricacies were limited, they tried to study the only source the world had. To say that they were unhappy when he simply told them, "No," was an understatement. Tensions rose as nations tried to claim the ancient for their own gain, as if he were some sort of prize to be won. Having actually been the unsung hero of an abolitionist movement, from millennia ago, he was insulted they even dared.

To this very day, he had very strong opinions about Tevinter and Orlais. They were two of the worst offenders all those years ago. So much so, that a world war would have broken out had the Inquisition not stepped in. At the time, Inquisitor Ataashi Adaar, managed to offer Fen’harel uncontested autonomy. He would gain diplomatic immunity in the form of employment as an educator for the Inquisition's new school.

Others only threatened to turn him into a lab rat, in the name of science. Naturally, Fen’Harel accepted Adaar’s offer. He loved teaching... or hearing himself talk, or both. The result was a forced, if uneasy truce between the northern and southern nations of the continent. The Inquisition was able to buy peace with little to no cost to itself. As the supposed deity of trickery, Fen'Harel or Solas, thought this maneuver was very clever. Not all, however, were impressed or satisfied. It is only a matter of time until someone or something ended it for their own gain.

As for the method of Uthenera, anyone who took the Professor’s Ancient Elvhenan Civilization course learned that the elves used it for a number of reasons. Not a one of them was for enhancing someone’s lifespan. Immortality was a genetic trait that belonged solely to the ancient elves. In most cases, it was a cure for severe disillusionment, a common illness for immortals with physical bodies. Some would wake up several years later with their affliction gone, while others never did, forever lost to the fade. Having taken the class herself, Noelle was of the mind that Uthenera was like the modern world’s Act of Mercy. One day, she asked her professor if the ancient elves had considered other ways to counter the sickness. Didn’t they counsel or medicate their people? He took his time answering her, pausing to collect his thoughts in the middle of that day’s lesson.

_“That is an excellent question Ms. Trevelyan. The answer I’m afraid is not nearly as notable. Elvhenan lived in a time where magic was easy to understand and use. As such, magic was often applied to solve problems where other methods would be much more practical.”_

_He turned off the projector that displayed several key points for an upcoming exam and moved to the front of the room. Anyone too slow in copying them down filled the lecture hall with displeased groans and irritated huffs. After the grumbling petered out, he started casting illusion sequences in the air. When the professor wasn’t teaching, he enjoyed creating art in his spare time. Sometimes his students were lucky enough to see a live performance during his lessons. This was one of those lessons._

_The atmosphere of annoyance in the room soon turned to delighted anticipation. The images he created were usually breathtaking and this time was no different. The slight telltale pressure of magic being drawn from the Fade filled the air. Everyone perceived this process differently. For Noelle it felt like the ambient energy was like water being drained from a sieve. She could feel it being set into place right before becoming visible. All of the students let out a collective exhale when a simplified sketch of an elf in green light, took on a thinking pose._

_“In most cases,” he carried on, “it wasn’t even a solution, just a means to an end. Many did not stop to think, ‘Just because I can, does not mean I should.’”_

_The figure raised its arms to the ceiling and a sudden shower of fireworks burst through the air in brilliant shades of blue and purple. Every burst of light harmonized with chimes of all things. Excited gasps filled the hall. The old elf was feeling fanciful that day._

_“That does not mean we didn’t have our fair share of theorists and researchers. Evidence of their influence can be seen with today’s eluvian network.”_

_He slowly lifted a hand in front of him with an open palm. Almost simultaneously, the rumbling of stone echoed in the room as two rows of arched doorways raised from the ground. They boxed in the little elf figure where its reflection multiplied in each door. Noelle rolled her eyes at the needlessly complicated detail for his temporary doodles. At this point, the professor was just showing off. She could tell, having been his student for two years prior._

_“Magic is one’s imagination made real. It ignores the natural laws of the world with every word of power, gesture, sigil, and use of mana.”_

_After a minute, the illusion funneled into a swirl of smoke with a twist of the same hand. Scenic white clouds in a sky of blue hovered above their heads while rolling blue waves filled up half of the room in its place. A green line of illegible runes kept them apart. They winked in and out of focus, like stars. The lecture was held in one of the campus’ classic oratory rooms. Each row of desks had its own level in an arc formation. Some students literally had their heads up in the clouds while others were underwater._

_Many blinked, stupefied. Waves of the sea roared in the ears while wind whispered against skin. Noelle was in the perfect position to reach out and touch both clouds and water, but resisted. She learned the hard way that none of what he created was real in her first year, as real as it seemed._

_“You must understand that there was no Veil to keep the waking and dreaming separate. Had it existed back then, they would have eventually turned to science as a necessity, as we do today. Science is the systematic study of structure and behavior of the physical and natural world through observation and experiment. Living in a time where supernatural phenomena reigned supreme, few Elvhen turned to science for any reason.”_

_Another student spoke up, arguing that some magic was just science the mundane world had yet to figure out. The Professor had agreed and expanded on the extra tangent. Classes with him were never dull._

 

* * *

 

 

Given what he said that day, Noelle figured that complacency was what destroyed the ancient Elves. She imagined that immortality came with boredom. When one had all the time in the world, one would get bored, and screw things up just for the hell of it. She never voiced this opinion for fear of crossing a cultural threshold. Offending him was the last thing she wanted. But despite her best efforts, the young woman must have done or said something wrong anyway. Why? Because she was several miles away from modern conveniences. Like air conditioning. That's why.

She couldn't even use spells to cool off. Their group discovered the hard way that the temple's very foundations were riddled with wards. Old spells that were Elvhen in origin, like veil fire, were recognized as benign. Modern sequences, telling the molecules in the air to slow down their vibrations (a.k.a. air conditioning), automatically summoned spirit guardians. In a rare senior moment, the professor forgot that these wards even existed.

_"I cannot remember every little detail from thousands of years ago. Do you remember the first day you walked or decided what your favorite color was?"_ he shot back, the tips of his ears going red, when confronted.

He called the temple's "updates" interesting. Noelle just thought they were racist. Sophisticated but racist. Plain and simple. While the professor worked on disarming, a nasty 6000-year-old arcane trap, Noelle snuck a peek at him. Sometimes she forgot that he wasn’t a middle-aged man but an ancient legend. It was hard to reconcile who he was today with what he was during the days of Elvhenan or even 70+ years ago. The elf was obviously a much different person back then. Her old apprentice textbook pictures had attested to that.

The main differences that anyone could notice were the dreads and stony gaze he used to have. Many photos showed him scowling at the photographer in confusion. Unlike most modern elves, his height rivaled most human men, cutting an imposing figure in otherworldly garb. The ex-Evanuris looked harsh and elegant, and had, “Survivor” written all over him. In present day, Professor Solas looks like an average male in his mid to late 40’s. He is bald (though it is suspected to be caused by a spell, rather than age) with gentler eyes and a strange fixation on everknit wool sweaters. The only trait that makes him stand out is the freckles on his cheeks, and those were barely visible.

He was bookish and a loner. Or so they all thought. Many were shocked to learn of his engagement last month, including the paparazzi. No one knew who the lucky person was, and he preferred it that way for as long as possible. The change in him over the past month was unsettling to watch. The old mand would often smile and stare off into space for no reason. He was usually so aware of his surroundings. Despite everything, Noelle still couldn’t see the old man in front of her as a foreboding god at all. Sometimes he was a smug, egg-headed, nerd. Being responsible for creating the Veil does that to a person. But that’s a story for another time.

Presently, Noelle was taking three of his courses this semester. Advanced Magical Theory, Advanced Elvhen, and Fade Topography. They were difficult and expensive, hence the internship. The impending doom of student debt could be held off for a little while longer and a little extra credit couldn’t hurt.  Her skin, however, disagreed. The mosquito bites on her arms, neck, and legs itched like crazy. After finding out that the few healing spells she knew, also triggered the wards, she settled for scratching. Noelle wasn’t looking forward to seeing the results of her attempts at relief in daylight.

Her stomach wasn’t happy with her either. The gnawing hunger and pathetic gurgling made her fidget. The professor was about 30 ft away from her in an underground chamber lit by veil fire, but those ears of his were not for show. She didn’t want to draw attention to herself unnecessarily. Distractions could prove fatal here. He cordoned off the area around him with a modified barrier for a reason. As for her gut, dinner was three hours ago and she was still hungry.

The other elf in the room, Sera, felt the same. The only difference between the two women was that the other actually complained. Loudly. Sera wasn’t afraid to speak her mind and liked to cause mischief. She didn’t like “elfy elves” and Professor Solas was the very epitome of “elfy.” He never said anything, but you could tell the feeling of disdain was mutual. The entire trip had been rife with so much tension that Noelle wisely stayed out of it.

Sera wasn’t a student like Noelle and she wasn’t even qualified to document millennia old artifacts either. Her skills were unusual and mostly suited to shady activities outside of the law. While most people preferred guns or magic for long distance combat, Sera opted for an augmented bow and arrows. Guns were “Too winchy,” for the strange woman. Sera looked how she lived, rough and flashy.

Currently she squatted off in the far off corner to Noelle’s right. Her gray eyes balefully glaring at the professor’s back. Her straw blond hair was in a pixie cut that looked like a knife cut her locks instead of scissors. The younger elf liked to wear anything in bright red and yellow. Unfortunately, whenever a trap summoned spirits, Sera served as an unintentional beacon. Noelle felt bad for her and tried to offer temporarily transmuting the colors into darker shades. Sera brushed it off. She didn’t seem to like magic all that much, especially when combined with thousand-year-old snares, like the one in front of them.

Sera admitted that, “Traps’re fun until I get bits all over. Elfy or not.”

The strange woman had a way of putting things into perspective through blunt observation. It was normal to feel this way. Sometimes the professor forgot that working in a dangerous environment was something people did with the utmost caution. He was so used to being the most dangerous person in a room, so he didn’t have all the misgivings that a normal person would. Most the safety precautions he took seemed to be afterthoughts.

Sera was very good at reminding him that not everyone, “Was older than dirt,” much to his exasperation. It was interesting to see someone effortlessly humble the professor from time to time. The two of them were like oil and water, so it was a shock to see them agree on something this morning. Maybe it was a fluke. The professor had somehow convinced Sera to leave her bombs at camp today, an she had been grumpy ever since.

“To keep the risk of cave-ins low,” he assured them.

Noelle wasn't sure what alarmed her the most. Not knowing Sera had bombs this whole time or the unexplained reason for said bombs during this excavation.

Both elves in the room had suddenly gone still. Noelle thought it was because of her stomach again, but then professor tilted his head to the side. He was trying to parse some other sound. A few more minutes passed until Solas and Sera relaxed again. The human wondered if they heard the fourth member of their group, however unlikely. Cole had the bad habit of teleporting everywhere instead of simply walking. A skill like that was impossible without the aid of a magical device. Only spirits and demons were capable of performing such a feat. Cole was luckily, a spirit of Compassion. He also happened to be an exchange student from the Fade.

The Chantry preached against magic, the Fade, and by extension its supernatural inhabitants. When they learned of the Inquisition’s new exchange program, they went ballistic and called it heresy. A certain chancellor had visited several sending stations, questioning the University’s accreditation. The Dean assured students this new exchange program was to foster understanding between both sides through academic exposure. The risk of unwanted possession wasn't all that long ago. Rare cases still happened in areas with a higher concentration of Chantry influence.

It was through education that the Inquisition hoped to promote understanding between dreamers and spirits alike. Future generations depended on the organization’s newest gamble. Noelle was part of the worried crowd at first, but then she met Curiosity and Cole. She’s had some interesting conversations with them during lunch. Their perspectives were eye opening and though provoking. Noelle was honest with them in a way she couldn’t be with others born on this side. Others did not agree and had transferred to other schools the first chance they got. Their fears were not groundless.

Spirits were malleable to those who lived in the waking world. If you accidentally summoned a spirit of Wisdom, but wanted a Pride demon, it would adapt against their will. There was little chance of that happening to Cole. He came to this side of the Veil under his own power, as the program dictated. Those who were summoned and bound to the Waking side were unqualified. That went double for those any who possessed bodies.

Having met the criteria for the exchange program, Cole was still very impressionable. Occasionally, he blurted out some poor soul’s innermost thoughts. Mainly hers. It wasn’t on purpose and he wasn’t trying to be malicious, so Noelle just rolled with it. The spirit was learning and so adorably confused about everything on this side. It was hard to stay upset with him. Especially when he looked at you with those puppy dog eyes of his.

Compassion was a rare concept throughout Thedas’ violent history. Any of its living embodiments were so sensitive and often gave way to Apathy or Despair before reaching anyone in the waking world, if ever. Cole was different. He wanted to influence the thoughts of others in a positive manner, instead of the other way around. There was no better way to do that than to study psychology, which was his intended major.

She wondered how his studies were going since many people, including his professors, forgot him due to his nature. Cole was used to this phenomena but it freaked her out the first time she saw it happen. Noelle shared a Communications course with him last semester and it was strange. During class introductions, some neo-Templar-wannabe threatened to Smite Cole and every mage in the room while, screaming outdated Chantry rhetoric. The next thing she knew, the guy walked out of class in a trance after Cole whispered in his ear.

Everyone else besides Noelle and two other students, sat serenely, caught in the same trance. The classroom was dead silent for thirty minutes straight. When they snapped out of it, class continued as if nothing had ever happened. Cole had no idea how creepy that was until she took him aside and explained why.

_“But he was going to hurt people,” he argued, confused._

To this day, she’s not sure if he completely understood the consequences of his actions. As one of the few who actually remembered what happened, she reported the incident to the campus guards, who didn’t believe her. There was no evidence and the two other students were too scared to testify. The professor’s memory loss also didn’t help her story’s credibility. Cole’s interference only delayed the student’s deadly attack.

The next day, the neo-Templar’s face was all over the news. He ended up murdering an unfortunate student who was walking home from school the night before. They were a mage who died from a powerful Smite. Authorities found lyrium, military grade augmented weapons without a permit, and Andrastian propaganda in the murderer’s dorm room. The campus security guards that ignored Noelle’s warnings were fired. The students that didn’t come forward were suspended. Cole was MIA for two weeks. When she thought about what happened Noelle shouldn’t have been surprised. Most people ignored spirits, demons, and their influences because of the Veil. Noelle was unable to do that, being exceptionally in tune with the Fade for a modern mage.

Since they had arrived at the temple, Noelle meditated every night before bed. Sometimes she was successful, other times, not so much. Cole doled out free hugs whenever she couldn’t manage to have a dreamless sleep. Some nights she would see several spirits waiting in queue behind a seal that the group managed not to activate. They would stare menacingly down at her, silent and ready. Every one of Cole’s heartfelt squeezes left her feeling lighter after those nights. Spirits of Compassion give good cuddles. On the other hand, maybe it’s just a Cole thing.

After several minutes of silence, her round human ears caught on to the sound the elves had heard earlier. A faint clicking echoed towards them. The sound of shoes on tiles. The expensive kind. Who comes to the wilderness in heels? Noelle summoned some wisps to appear and light the way to their location, ignoring Sera’s disgusted huff.

“Professor Solas is that you?” A cultured Antivan accent called out. The clicking of heels increased in pace and volume.

The old elf let out a long-suffering sigh, making Noelle bite her lip to keep from laughing.

“Yes, Ms. Montiliyet we are here,” he answered with an even voice.

The steps echoed louder until the woman in question came through two elaborate 50-foot filigreed golden doors. Noelle gawked at the sheer size of them when seeing them first hand. They were carbon dated and preserved hours ago, found to be over a whopping 50,000 years old. The doors were probably worth more than all 22 noble families of Ostwick combined and the stranger barely gave them a glance. Another woman, whose heavy combat boots never made a sound, closely followed behind. Unlike the Antivan, she was very observant, taking in the doors, the room and its current occupants with a glance.

Ambassador Josephine Montiliyet, was the Inquisition’s liaison with the outside world. She only dealt with political matters, so her being here meant someone important was agitated.

_'Uh oh,'_ Noelle thought.

She vaguely recognized the ambassador’s escort. The silent woman would often walk the campus grounds with some sort of visitor’s badge. There was no name to the face, but it was obvious that she was a figure of authority.

Her red hair was in a chic bob, framing a pale face with light make-up. A sending crystal, in the shape of an ear cuff, clung to her right earlobe. She was in full tactical armor belonging to the Divine’s personal guard, though it looked altered for personal taste. The silent woman must be high up in the chain of command to do whatever she wanted to her uniform. It was purple, silver, and black instead of the standard red and white. A gun was holstered at the small of her back, while two augmented knives were strapped to her thighs. There was no telling if she had more. She stood next to the ambassador At Ease, but Noelle never doubted that the Sister was very dangerous. Even the professor kept his body partially turned towards the Chantry agent. The Sister made Noelle’s hair stand on end.

If the woman had been a Templar, Noelle would’ve booked it, extra credit be damned. She counted herself lucky that those walking black holes weren’t here. The ambassador was the only one in the room who wasn’t tense. She wore an expensive blue business suit with gold jewelry glinting in the pale green light of veil fire. It was slightly functional looking, but still absurd, given their surroundings. Noelle shook her head at the matching golden shoes. It looked like she stepped on an old spider’s nest and some mud on the way here.

Ms. Montiliyet face looked like it was carved from stone. She was obviously out of her element. Her only consolation was the flawless caramel skin on display, free of mosquito bites. Noelle scratched at her elbow, jealously eyeing the two women.

The professor didn’t stand to greet them as he was occupied with the trap. She took this as her cue to get back to work. Her newest task was to translate and type out a digital copy of the professor’s notes for the University’s Board of Directors. He had written them in ancient elven script. They were neat and beautiful, but gave her the mother of all headaches. Noelle’s proficiency with the language was mostly verbal. He was optimistic that she could read and write it with the same ease some day. The student didn’t dare complain. It was either this or actual homework.

“If we may have a moment of your time?” the ambassador asked him, stopping 20 feet away from him.

A wise choice on her part.

“Certainly Ambassador, Agent Nightingale, how may I help you?”

That was the professor’s way of telling them that he couldn’t be bothered but would make time anyway. The tone was too mild. Nobody believed the act. Sera snorted.

There was a slight lull in the conversation and then, “I apologize but I am preoccupied with disarming a magical artifact that could kill me if I am not careful,” the two newcomers sucked in a startled breath at that. “I hope you understand that I cannot speak to you in another location. Is the issue a matter of… delicate means?” he finished.

Noelle understood the intent behind his words. Whatever they needed to speak to him about was probably classified information. The two women backed up a little bit further from the Dread Wolf. Noelle was still stuck on the same sentence that she had been trying to decipher for the last 10 minutes.

_'Screw it,'_ she gave up and decided to take a break, while watching the show in front of her.

“You would put the students that are assisting you at risk for your research?” the Antivan asked him in disbelief.

“I would never,” the old elf shot back, sounding insulted, but not once halting his efforts.

“Explain,” the agent called Nightingale demanded in a gentle Orlesian accent.

Her stance was still neutral but it looked like she was ready to strike at a moment’s notice. He still had his back to Noelle, so she could only picture the dry look on his face. He would usually give that look whenever someone said something stupid.

“I said the trap could kill me, did I not? This triple tiered ward indicates a reaction of extreme prejudice against an aspiring supplicant to -,”

Sera let out a loud groan, “UGH! Elven glory just stopped talkin’, yeah? D’you really want him startin’ all over? Long winded that one,” she complained.

Noelle bit her lip to keep from smirking again. This was true.

“Sera perhaps you should locate Cole. He has been gone for quite some time. I am worried that he has gotten lost,” Solas’ voice was colder than the Frostbacks.

The younger elf shrugged standing up from her crouch in the corner, and slung her bow over her shoulder. She left without a parting snarky retort making Noelle fidget. The last time Sera was quiet, they all ended up with lizards in their tents. The old elf didn’t extend the “suggestion” to Noelle so she decided to continue her attempts at translating.

“Ms. Trevelyan,” he called out a beat after. Spoke too soon…

Her eyes looked up again finding herself being scrutinized by the two older women. She guessed sitting cross-legged while floating in the air _was_ pretty distracting. A quick whisper under her breath slowly unraveled her hover spell, gently lowering Noelle to the floor.

“Yes professor?” The elf in question didn’t even look her way, continuing his work on the ancient trap. After his painstaking hour-long tinkering, he would be fine… probably.

“Call it a night and return to camp. You are welcome to the leftovers there,” he told her, amusement coloring his voice.

Her face felt hot, as she gathered up his notes and her laptop. The old man had heard her stomach earlier after all.

' _Damn it,'_ she cursed inwardly.

She sealed everything up in her bag’s dimensional pocket and walked out. Nodding to the two older women.

**_“Good night, elder.”_** she anxiously mumbled in elven under her breath.

**_“Good night, young one,”_** he answered her in kind, still amused.

Camp was half a mile above ground, so she left at a brisk pace. The summoned wisps from earlier had left but it wasn’t all that dark down here after all. The glyphs marking their path were still active. She used those to see her way back up.

 

* * *

 

 

“Now then,” the old elf began, “to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit Ambassador? Was communication via the Somniari Net not feasible?”

The trap that plagued him for the better part of the day was finally, deactivated. He levitated its structure and set it in the corner that Sera had previously occupied. Solas almost rolled his eyes when the other two visibly relaxed. The modern safety practices of decommissioning magical traps were quite effective. A barrier was set around both him and the trap while he worked. They were both able to see it, were they not? If one wore Inquisition or Chantry issue acumen lenses, as the Nightingale did, they would be able to see the intricacies of its encryption.

Everyone was perfectly safe. Well… maybe not Solas, but the point was moot. If this gets back to Isene though, he’d never hear the end of it.

_‘Halla’s nuts, Solas. Not everyone is at ease with aggressive magic as you are. Not even mages! Try to consider the feelings of us mortals, yes?’_ she would say. He almost snorted aloud at the thought.

He was sensitive towards his students. Was that not enough? Politicians and assassins for religious institutions were tolerable at best, overbearing at worst. He understood that Ms. Montiliyet was a good sort but the Nightingale was a double agent. He was wary of her for good reason. A ginger brow lifted as he observed the way they both looked at each other. Whatever they had to say next was obviously bad news. The Antivan cleared her throat but the Orlesian beat her to it.

“The Inquisition’s Somniari department was neutralized yesterday,” she stated, looking grim.

His eyes grew wide in disbelief. To say that this particular barrel of gaatlok was unexpected, was putting it mildly. Things were just fine with the Inquisition two weeks ago. Who would have the resources… the audacity to attack their various agents located around the world? And all at once, no less. Solas rubbed at his skull, frustrated and exhausted. Stubborn bristles met his hand.

He’d been down here for so long, that the world had slipped away from his foremost thoughts. Even Isene. He’d been hard pressed to keep up a line of communication with anyone save his interns and Sera. Nothing could be received or sent by a crystal this far underground. The sheer focus that he was proud of, having developed it over centuries of discipline, made him forget many things. Even to shave. Solas was a little self-conscious to be found in such a state but perhaps it was a good thing. His vhenan often asked him to grow it out again. ‘ _Later,’_ he told himself. For now, the tragic news that the two women had brought to his attention took priority.

That couldn’t have been all the information he was to receive today. It was suspicious that someone of considerable lower rank did not bring this to his attention. There was obviously more to this visit.

“Were there no survivors?” Solas had trained some of them himself. He always had a soft spot for his students.

“No less than 15 are in critical condition. We need your opinion on their treatment. The way the department was attacked is puzzling our forensics team,” the Nightingale says.

He sucked in a breath at that and for the first time in awhile, felt truly sad. He hadn’t felt this way since waking up from uthenera years ago. What a terrible waste. A little over 300 men and women reduced to just 15 of the Inquisition’s Dreamers in such a short time.

Isene must be livid and anxious. He was part of the Net, after all. “I see,” he said, and wished that he did not. Someone just declared war on Thedas’ international peacekeepers. His gaze assessed took in the hallway that the infernal trap was guarding. This would have to wait… They would have to wait.

“Is there anything else?” It still wasn’t clear why the Ambassador was here. She was not suited to fieldwork. Was the Inquisitor short on staff?

“I have been ordered to accompany the Left Hand of her Holiness Divine Justinia to oversee her duties,” Montiliyet stated, looking remorseful. That meant the Inquisitor knew whatever was going to happen next an by the looks of things, it was anything but good.

The Nightingale stepped forward, “I have come to inform you that you are suspected of treason and wanted for questioning.”

 

* * *

 

 

Heads up:

Words in _**BOLD ITALICS**_ are said in another language.

Sections in _ITALICS_ are flashbacks.

Words written in _'ITALICS'_ are thoughts.

 

* * *

 

 

Story Terms:

 

Act of Mercy – The Thedosian equivalent of assisted suicide. Google says: the suicide of a patient suffering from an incurable disease, effected by the taking of lethal drugs provided by a doctor for this purpose. (this can be compared to when our favorite spirit of Compassion attempted/committed a mercy kill for a refugee at Skyhold.)

Acumen lenses – Visual aids in the form of contact lenses or glasses. They allow weak mages and/or non-mages to see the intricacies of magical sequences or spells. Powerful mages can see past the Veil.

Ameridan University – A conglomerate of colleges, providing higher education to talented individuals, funded by the Inquisition. Named for the first Inquisitor.

Arbor Wilds – An expansive untamed piece of wilderness deemed too dangerous to traverse by neighboring countries and the Chantry.

Augmented/Augmentation - Modern term for enchantment.

Sending stations – The Thedosian equivalent to radio and tv stations. They are considered major communication hubs. Text, audio, and visuals can be sent out to a receiving audience of millions of people.

Elvhenan – An ancient empire of the elves that was destroyed from within millennia ago.

Evanuris – Powerful mages who were once so influential in their society that they changed their social classes in the ancient empire of Elvhenan. These individuals were said to be generals who became kings and later on revered as gods.

Fen’Harel – Literally meaning, the Dread Wolf, in Kingstongue/common. The ancient Elvhen god of rebellion or betrayal in Dalish legend. A.K.A Professor Solas.

Gaatlok - Explosive catalyst. Qunari in origin.

Glyph– Often written in ancient Elvhen or old Tevene for wards, enchantment formulas, and waymarks. They can only be written via veil fire.

Halla’s nuts – Self explanatory. I can’t claim the credit for this saying though. Borrowed it from [rooster82’s](https://rooster82.deviantart.com/) “DAO Fan Comic.” Amazingly talented artist on deviantart. Check them out.

Illusion Sequences – Harmless visual images, considered as a medium of art.

Ostwick – Free Marcher city-state that Noelle Trevelyan hails from.

Sequence – In the study of magic, a modern term for spells.

Uthenera – A magical compulsion that causes one to sleep for hundreds to thousands of years to recover from severe disillusionment via immortality.

Veil - A term for a construct, developed thousands of years ago, separating the Waking world from the Fade or Dreaming.

Veil fire – A memory of real flames set in an old fade-touched torch. It looks green instead of the standard yellow of the Waking side of the veil.

**Author's Note:**

> Ok. I've rewritten this first chapter several times. I haven't written fanfiction in years and I'd like to think that I've come a long way from grammar issues and unintentional plot holes. I'm still trying to find my style too. Fair warning. If you notice anything wrong in that sense, please let me know! Feedback about plot is welcome too.


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